


5 Flowers for Ellie Chu

by fireaway



Category: The Half of It (2020)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Coming of Age, F/F, Fluff without Plot, Sending Flowers (but make it different), keeping in touch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24047536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireaway/pseuds/fireaway
Summary: And one for Aster Flores.--Ellie immediately recognizes the handwriting on the thin cardboard box.Without warning, her heart skips a beat at the sight of her own name swooping across the middle. What she realizes is that this is the first time she has ever seen her name written in that handwriting.And it looks really nice.
Relationships: Ellie Chu & Aster Flores, Ellie Chu/Aster Flores
Comments: 51
Kudos: 374





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> how typical of me to start another fic during finals week. i hope you enjoy! (but seriously, please wish me luck i'm gonna need it)

_flores, meaning “flowers”_

**i.**

The first flower arrives two weeks into September. 

Amidst all the frenzy of getting adjusted on campus, meeting her professors, settling into her dormitory, Ellie’s mind has wandered far beyond the bounds of little old Squahamish. 

She tries not to dwell on the town she left behind, save for daily phone calls with her dad and the endless emojis she receives from Paul. Because the world is wide, and the possibilities are endless. 

It’s time for her to make some memories elsewhere. 

College is different. The people, here, are different. Everything is unfamiliar and new and exciting, because there is simply so much to learn, so much life ahead of her to live, so much of _herself_ that she has yet to discover. And she simply does not know where to start. 

But Ellie soon receives her answer in the form of an email; one alerting her of a package waiting in her mailbox. And because there is so much that is unfamiliar and new and exciting, her curiosity peaks - her mind begins to wonder. For she doesn’t recall ordering anything online. Neither Paul nor her father mentioned sending anything. 

Half of her expects the mail to be a shipment of those taco sausages she had fallen in love with. The other half of her wracks her brain for anything her father might have thought she forgot at home. 

Instead, what was found inside the locked mailbox was something unexpected. And no matter how different things are around here, nothing can compare to how different Ellie feels now. She’s no longer that five year old girl who moved to America from China, and she’s definitely not that same lonely girl at the start of her senior year of high school. 

Because Ellie immediately recognizes the handwriting on the thin cardboard box. 

Without warning, her heart skips a beat at the sight of her own name swooping across the middle. What she realizes is that this is the first time she has ever seen her name written in that handwriting. 

And it looks really nice. 

The handwriting is one she’s all too familiar with. It’s like when someone recognizes a person’s laugh in a crowded room, Ellie is confident she could recognize this handwriting anywhere. She has studied the curves of each letter, the haste at which the t’s are crossed and the care at which the i’s are dotted. It’s the same handwriting she has caressed under her palms, traced with her fingertips, ingrained into her mind. The same handwriting she had come to learn just by trading words back and forth, peeling back the layers and looking under the covers; a piece of her soul on every torn piece of paper. 

Ellie remembers her own ink-stained hands as she let her thoughts bleed into one another, creating smudged letters while hiding behind something as little as a pen, foolishly falling for a girl her best friend was after. 

_Aster Flores,_ the sender’s name reads. 

And there it is again: another beat that her heart skips. 

Ellie’s stomach lurches as she traces Aster’s handwriting for the first time in a long time, and she can feel that familiar tingle on her skin, her mind reaching for the last memory she has of Aster. 

Aster in a denim jacket and a flowing red dress. 

Aster’s messy braided hair, swept over one shoulder. 

Aster’s teasing eyes and sparkling smile from across the street. 

Aster and her hopes that Ellie will find something to believe in. 

Aster as she gently grips Ellie’s arms when pulled into a kiss. 

(Not to mention, Aster kissing back without a second of hesitation) 

Ellie brings her fingers up to her lips, delicately, carefully, as she relives that moment, feeling the kiss on her lips as if it had only happened yesterday. 

Her lips curve into a smile. 

So any shred of patience Ellie has can no longer be found when she pries open the box right then and there, sitting on the concrete floor of the campus post office, her designated mailbox still swung wide open. The office is empty except for a security guard, therefore, there’s nobody else around to witness the girl’s shaky hands and wide eyes as she pulls out a sizable canvas, one washed with swirls of bright yellow against a pale blue. 

Ellie reads the words drawn onto a clear sky: 

_Here’s to new beginnings._

Her gaze immediately falls to three vibrant flowers, stunning daffodils standing triumphantly, filling the canvas with bold gold strokes. It looks like spring, which should be odd since it’s only September; and it doesn’t make sense, but it also _feels_ like spring as Ellie finds her fingers imitating each stroke. 

A brief, breathless laugh escapes her. It’s something she’s still getting used to. 

“She paints how she writes,” she whispers to herself in awe, as she follows every path Aster’s brush must have taken, eyeing where one shade of yellow seamlessly ends and another one begins. 

Aster painted a flower once. Ellie thinks it might have been a daisy. (Aster thought it looked silly, but Ellie didn’t think so). But this painting, here, has more color. More _life._ There is confidence and recklessness from a wild but steady hand. 

“Bravely,” she finishes her thought. 

Before Ellie can talk herself out of it, she reaches for her phone and pulls up Aster’s number. She starts typing, shakes her head, and then deletes. Starts typing, groans to herself, and then deletes. She types and deletes repeatedly until her cheeks are flushed pink and the glasses resting upon her nose starts to slip, but she huffs her breath and pushes through. 

Because she can be brave too. 

**ELLIE** : **No one has ever given me flowers before.**

She sits there, unmoving, clutching her phone in her hand, and waits. The clock ticking on the far wall seems to match in time with her heartbeat. 

A minute passes before her phone chimes. 

**ASTER** : **I can give you more. Any requests?**

Ellie’s lips lift into a smile once more, and she swings her mailbox shut while she thinks of what to say. She doesn’t know much about flowers; can probably only name a handful like sunflowers and roses and pretty pale tulips. But she _does_ know Aster Flores. Or at least she knows the parts of her she had been willing to share when she thought Ellie was someone else. 

So Ellie knows exactly what to say. She has probably known since their very first letter. 

**ELLIE** : **Surprise me… Think you could do better?**


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took some time to update! i'm still recovering from my finals. yikes!
> 
> but i still hope you enjoy! (only proofread by me but barely)

**ii.**

It’s well into October when the second flower arrives. 

The air is chilly, and the wind is somewhat brisk (Good thing Ellie layers like there’s no tomorrow). And the school grounds are covered in leaves of red and orange hues. They crunch underneath the soles of her shoes as she walks from one lecture hall to the next. 

Her mind wanders, as it usually does. 

She wonders if New York City is filled with leaves like these: crisp and beautiful, ranging from green to red, with yellows that match the taxis passing by. Maybe Aster walks around noticing every shade, finding something different and unique in each of them; how no two leaves are alike - in the same way that snowflakes, clouds, and people are. 

However, Ellie figures there are probably not many trees in the big city of skyscrapers and wet concrete. Still, she likes to think that Aster notices every color anyway. That thought warms her with a sense of comfort as she strolls across the campus. 

Because if a god exists, then: _God knows she needs it._

The first month and a half of the semester had breezed by, and in the blink of an eye, exam season is upon her. Midterms rushed in and began breathing down her neck, suffocating her as multiple exams are all packed together in an already hectic schedule. 

It’s stressful, if she’s being honest. And _draining._ The cramming, the all-nighters, the accidentally falling asleep at the library are definitely unfamiliar and new, Ellie admits. 

But exciting? Not even close. 

Eventually, she gets through them, just as she has been getting through most things in her life. It especially helps when Aster texts her sometimes... most times... _All_ the time. 

It was just last night, on the eve of Ellie’s dreaded chemistry exam, when Aster called and wished her good luck, sometime between the hours of twelve and one o’clock, whispering with that soft, gentle voice of hers, causing Ellie to fall asleep with a smile spread on her lips. 

So now, here she is, the following evening, stepping on crunchy leaves and taking purposeful strides toward her lecture hall. 

And Ellie walks into class and aces the exam. 

The smile hasn’t left her face since. 

She leaves the building, and once outside, the autumn air sends a shiver up her spine. It thrills her in a way Ellie can’t explain, but she won’t bend over backwards trying to figure herself out. So instead, while buttoning her sweater and zipping up her coat, she starts for the dormitory buildings with a slight skip in her step. 

Her phone chimes just as she reaches the entrance, and she digs a hand into the deep pocket of her coat, a thin glove nearly falling out as she retrieves the device. 

Halloween is this weekend, so Ellie half expects a text from one of her friends asking to hang out. Or she half expects a lame but endearing joke from none other than Paul Munsky. 

However, she has yet to learn that life is not always what she expects. 

An email alert from the post office greets her, popping up in front of a picture with her father on the lock screen. It’s not at all what she had expected, mainly because Aster had been teasing her the entire month, saying things like, “I don’t know, Ellie. Those daffodils were some of my best work. I don’t think I could top them,” or even, “My hands are really tired. I’m getting pretty lazy. Can I just send you _real_ flowers instead?” 

But Ellie should have known better. 

After all, she _did_ ask Aster to surprise her. 

And so here Ellie is, standing in the dim glow of a setting sun, thoroughly and utterly surprised. 

The notification is screaming at her. It’s enough to get her heart racing a mile a minute. Ellie doesn’t even bother to open the email, because the subject line tells her all that she needs to know: **Package delivery for Ellie Chu**. Therefore, she wastes no time in stepping toward the bicycle rack. 

(Sometimes she rides a bike around campus. Old habits die hard). 

She grabs for her bike and pulls it to the sidewalk. Her skin tingles with excitement as Ellie swings herself onto the seat and kicks at the kickstand, pushing and clicking her helmet into place before pedaling against the brisk air towards the post office. 

When she arrives, another thin cardboard box bearing the same swooping handwriting awaits her. 

Ellie sits there on the concrete floor again, for the second time of the semester, and traces her own name. A smile finds its way onto her face, tugging at the corners of her lips. 

She yanks at the flaps, holding her breath. 

As the canvas is slowly pulled from the box, the painting gradually comes into view. Ellie savors every second as one by one, each color appears. First, it’s one. Then, they’re two. Followed by three, four, and more. 

The boldest color, the one that stands out the most, is a deep lilac that loops and feathers over a rich green color, dotting and traveling upwards along the side of a long stem before plunging low on the other side, only to repeat on several more. The lilac pales and then, darkens. Thins, and then, thickens. Each petal points out but hangs down, as if the small flowers have yet to fully bloom. But each stem stands tall, shooting towards a pale blue and cloudy sky - and Ellie has the urge to touch them. 

Even if they aren’t real. 

Even if they are merely dried paint. 

“Heather,” Ellie reads the words scribbled onto the grass surrounding the flowers. “Meaning good luck and good fortune.” 

At that, her smile spreads wider, her cheeks beginning to warm, because she just can’t help herself. 

”Fortune,” Ellie repeats aloud, amusement evident in her voice. ”Who would’ve thought?” 

Later that night, before heading out with her friends, Ellie sends a message to the talented artist. Of course, she rewrites and proofreads the message nearly ten times. (But Aster doesn’t need to know that). 

**ELLIE** : **OK, I’ll admit. That painting... I’m impressed.**

She bites her lip as she waits, but Aster responds almost instantly. 

**ASTER** : **I thought you’d say so.**

**ASTER** : **By the way…**

**ASTER** : **Happiness looks good on you.**

Ellie flushes, a weird feeling appears in her stomach like goddamn butterflies flapping their godforsaken wings. 

**ELLIE** : **That’s funny. You can’t even see me.**

The thing about happiness is that it isn’t permanent. It comes and goes like the trains in Squahamish. But in a place like Grinnel, in a town much bigger than the one she left behind, the happiness is more frequent. More trains are coming and going. More experiences to have, more things to learn, and more people to meet. 

_So,_ Ellie wonders, _Is Aster right?_

**ASTER** : **I don’t have to.**

**ASTER** : **I bet you’re glowing right now.**

At that, Ellie glances at herself in the mirror, looking slightly bolder than she ever had before, wearing a red and white striped shirt paired with a red beanie, looking like she had stepped straight off of a page from _Where’s Waldo?_

She blushes even harder. 

_Yes,_ Ellie knows the answer. _Yes, she is._

**ELLIE** : **Hey.**

**ELLIE** : **I hope you’re happy too.**

The ellipses appear, disappear, and then reappear shortly after. Aster is typing. 

**ASTER** : **I am.**

More ellipses. Then, another message. 

**ASTER** : **I will be.**

Ellie allows herself a soft smile. 

She thinks happiness would look good on Aster, as most things do. 

A burst of noise erupts in the hallway, as Ellie’s roommate begins to pull on a jacket. It’s Halloweekend, and people are starting to filter out of their dorm rooms, carrying the energy of bubbling freshmen on a Friday night, humming and amplifying in the way that only young people can. 

**ELLIE** : **I’m going out with some friends tonight. Can we talk tomorrow?**

One of her friends enters the room, beaming with an eager face and wearing what seems to be a soccer jersey as a costume. Her eyes brighten when she sees Ellie dressed up, and she grips Ellie’s arm and excitedly guides her into the hallway. 

“You look great, Ellie! Come on!” 

Ellie swats her hand away and laughs. And because she has spent most of her life hiding in a shell, she leans into her friend’s side as they both leave the room; the feeling of belonging - the feeling of being a part of something unfamiliar and new and exciting - hugs Ellie’s body. 

It feels good - it feels _great_. Because within her short amount of time at college, she has got friends to call her own and an environment she can thrive in. And she can’t wait to tell Aster Flores all about it; Aster Flores, the beautiful girl who sent her lilac heathers and three yellow daffodils which are now proudly hanging on Ellie’s wall. 

Good luck and good fortune. 

Here’s to new beginnings. 

Aster Flores knows her too. 

**ASTER** : **Of course. Stay safe, heathen. I’ll call you in the morning.**

**Author's Note:**

> hang out with me on tumblr!! [@rockyblue](https://rockyblue.tumblr.com)


End file.
